


Codependent

by TheDarkAgent



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Pre-Canon, Rehabilitation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkAgent/pseuds/TheDarkAgent
Summary: After falling out of a second story window during a mission gone wrong, Riza finds herself at the mercy of her commanding officer to nurse her back to health once again. Only now, the trauma of war has faded and they are forced to face the lingering feelings that haunt their every interaction. Royai.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 20
Kudos: 71





	1. Here we are again

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I should be finalizing tomorrow's chapter of Winter's Bane, but this story hasn't been able to leave me alone. Thankfully, it broke my writer's block (benefitting all my in-progress work) so I can't complain. This is almost fully written, but mostly unedited, so updates should be relatively consistent. Please let me know what you think! I took a chance and went with a different writing style for this one.

“Careful, Lieutenant!”

Roy’s voice sounds out across the empty warehouse. She cannot see him, the smoke from his flames filling the air, but she heeds his warning. 

They had chased a group of human traffickers to their headquarters in the southern warehouse district. The fight had been nasty and violent and Roy was forced to resort to alchemy stronger than he preferred to use within the city limits. 

“Hawkeye! Behind you!” 

She turns just in time to see three men swarming her, weapons ready and aimed at her chest. Before she can fire her own, one of them trips her, kicking the gun out of her hands and pinning her to the ground before she can reach into her holster for another. 

“You’re coming with us, missy,” he says menacingly. “Do you realize the price we can get on a woman like you?” 

Riza tries to fight, but he is too strong. She kicks her legs desperately before one of his accomplices pins them down, effectively rendering her immobile. She tries to scream, but a rag has been shoved down her throat during their struggle. 

“I’m giving you three seconds to let her go,” Roy’s voice yells out. Riza shudders at the sound. She has rarely heard him so angry and she’s in awe at the raw power behind his warning. “Three.. Two.. one..”

Simultaneously, a loud ‘crack’ rings out in perfect synchrony with a gunshot. The enemy pinning her legs releases her as he lets out an agonizing scream. From her limited viewpoint, it is obvious that he has caught fire. She should have sympathy- burning alive is one of the worst ways to go- but all she can focus on is her immediate survival. 

With the loss of his weight, she is able to resume thrashing underneath her remaining captor. Roy’s flames begin to surround them and Riza can feel sweat grace her brow. Despite the flame’s proximity, she trusts him completely that he will burn everything around her, but leave her unscathed. 

Another crack sounds through the air and, finally, her remaining captor flinches as he is licked with flames. Riza uses the small break in his grip to throw him off her, spitting out the rag in her mouth and choking for air before standing up and pulling out the remaining weapon in her holster. She shoots him straight through the eyes. His body drops instantly. 

She only has a moment of reprieve before the third and final assailant reveals himself from the shadows and lunges at her. Riza struggles to remain upright as his bodyweight slams into her. She stumbles, falling back, only registering that she is immediately next to a window a moment too late. The glass crashes around her and her stomach flips as she falls from the second story straight to the ground, the assailant’s arms still around her waist. They land with a hard thud and the wind is knocked straight out of her chest. Another gunshot rings and she knows without looking that Havoc, hidden from sight above, has shot the man lying on her. The metallic smell of blood begins to overwhelm her senses as she fights to push his dead weight off of her. A sharp pain invades her right arm and she cries out shortly after freeing herself. 

“Lieutenant!” Roy yells as he runs towards her, eyes wide with panic. “Are you okay?” He kneels beside her as he sits up. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She winces and knows he noticed. “Are you okay? I heard a gunshot.” 

“My flames startled him. Missed me by a mile,” Roy says reassuringly. “You’re wincing. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“On second thought, I might have broken my arm during the fall. And the targets?”

“All dead.” His voice has no remorse. “One burned alive, one shot by yourself and the last by Havoc.” 

Riza moves to stand but Mustang places a firm hand on her shoulder. “No. Sit and rest. The medics will be here shortly. I want you to see a doctor to find out if your arm is broken. That was quite a fall, Hawkeye.” 

Riza nods, her pain overwhelming her ability to protest his order. 

“Fucking bastards… who are they to think they can touch you like that?” Havoc says as he walks over to join his commanding officers, gun slung over his shoulder. “You okay, Hawkeye?”

“Yeah,” she grimaces. The pain in her arm is only intensifying. “That’s for that, Havoc.” 

“Anytime,” he says seriously. He looks over the freshly deceased body to the group’s right. “So much for capturing them for information.” 

“Grumman will understand,” Roy says with certainty. “Ah, look. The medics are here. Let’s get you cleaned up, Lieutenant. Havoc, I need you to stay here and supervise clean up.” He helped Riza stand, one arm underneath her armpit for support as he led her away. 

/-/-/

“The good news is the break is clean. Once it’s healed you should have no issues with mobility or function,” the doctor says to Riza as he examines her x-ray. 

“And the bad news?” She asks, bracing herself for the worst. 

“The bad news is we will need to completely immobilize the arm to ensure it does heal properly. That means a cast from wrist to bicep for at least six weeks. You will need to use a sling as well.” 

She exhales, cursing internally. This will mean desk duty for sure. Without use of her right arm, she’d be a sitting target in the field. 

“I’d like to start applying the plaster now, Lieutenant. Do you mind removing your jacket?” 

Riza nods and takes off her military jacket, cringing as her broken arm shifts to remove her right sleeve. She holds her breath, hoping that her black turtleneck has short enough sleeves that they don’t insist she remove it as well. 

There are things she wants to remain hidden. 

She’s in the clear as the doctor instructs her to keep her arm still at a 90-degree angle. Ten minutes later, the limb is fully wrapped and she is being fitted with a sling. 

“You will need some assistance in the bath,” the doctor says as he fills out the paperwork on his clipboard. “Before you shower or bathe, it will need to be fully wrapped in plastic to eliminate the chance of any moisture. And don’t try to workout while you have the cast either. You soldiers are a stubborn breed. Going on a run is only going to rattle your joints. The easier you take the next six weeks, the better. Now, do you have someone to drive you home?” 

Riza nods. “My commanding officer is in the waiting room.” 

“Good. You are free to go, Lieutenant. I want to see you again in three weeks so I can make sure that your arm is healing properly. If you have any questions, or if it seems like your pain is unmanageable, please call us right away.” 

The doctor hands her an appointment card with his contact information and the time of her next visit. Riza takes it with her left hand and sighs. “Thank you, doctor. I will see you in three weeks.” 

She leaves the room and heads towards the waiting area. It is empty minus one man, pacing up and down the back row of chairs. He looks up at the sound of her footsteps and makes eye contact- worry clear in his eyes- before looking over her cast and pursing his lips. 

“Before you say anything sir,” Riza begins, reading his mind. “This was not your fault.” 

Roy walks over to her and places a gentle hand on the elbow of her encased arm. His touch is so light that she cannot feel it through the plaster. “How long?” 

“Six weeks.” 

He lets out a deep breath. “How much are you going to fight me if I insist you take medical leave?” 

Riza shoots him a menacing look. 

“I can make it an order, if it helps.” 

“There’s no need, sir. I was not advised against desk duty.” 

“Please tell, Lieutenant. How do you plan on filling out paperwork? Will your handwriting even be legible using your left hand?” 

Riza had not considered this and pauses for a moment. She needs to convince Mustang that she is still useful in the office. Six weeks of medical leave would drive her crazy. “I may not be able to write, sir, but I can still assist you with reading through your own paperwork, sorting and delivering it as necessary as well as keeping the office generally on task.” 

“Always the work horse, Hawkeye,” Roy says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I will permit you to keep coming to work, but the instant I think you are inhibiting your recovery, I will place you on medical leave with or without your approval. Understood?” 

She snorts, but agrees. 

“Now, let’s go. We need to stop by your apartment and collect your things.” 

“What?” 

“Surely you didn’t think that I would just drop you off at your place to fend for yourself? Oh, no. You will be staying with me until you have use of both arms.” 

Riza swallows audibly at his words. Her nerves threaten to overpower her at the mere suggestion of spending six weeks in close quarters with her boss. Distance is their friend. Their carefully constructed barrier relies on keeping their personal and professional lives separate and then pretending that the personal side no longer exists. She curses her broken arm and the vulnerability that accompanies it.

“Really, Lieutenant,” Roy says. Now he is the one reading her mind. “You fell out of a second story window. Only a broken arm is a blessing.” 

“It may be,” Riza says, frowning. “Regardless, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself while I recover. Dominant arm or not.”

“Oh really,” Roy leans forward and holds out one of Riza’s guns. He holds it out to her unbroken hand. “Then reload the gun. If you can’t, you’re staying with me until your cast is off.” 

“Sir, this is ridiculous.” 

“Load the gun, Hawkeye and I will drop this conversation. Go on,” he motioned to the weapon in his hands. 

Riza gulps, staring at the gun in his outstretched palm. Weapons expert or not, she’s not confident in her ability. Admitting defeat, she sighs. It was going to be a long six weeks. 

Roy, while triumphant, is not immune to the stress radiating off of his Second-Lieutenant. He furrowed his brow, contemplating their options. “Hawkeye, if the idea truly makes you so uncomfortable, stay with me until Catalina returns from leave at the end of the week. You shouldn’t be alone, but she is more than capable of helping you recover.” 

For a moment, Riza is relieved at the provided escape. She opens her mouth, eager to accept his compromise, before she stops abruptly as her mind shutters with reality. 

Her tattoo. 

In the almost nine months since she asked Roy to deface her back, the burns have healed well. Her mobility has fully returned and aside from occasional soreness, typically prompted by an unusually restless night of sleep, she now goes days at a time without thinking about the array.

Despite this, Riza has yet to even entertain the idea of someone seeing her tattoo. Theoretically, she knows the array is useless, but her desire to protect it remains, although her motives are now transformed. 

Before, she was determined to keep her secrets out of the wrong hands. Midnight showers, away from hungry, prying eyes, became standard in Ishval. Even with the unforgivable heat of the desert, she was never seen donning less than her full uniform. 

Now, it was different. She knew the implications her back gave. How would anyone, let alone Rebecca, overlook the fact that she was covered in burns all while conveniently working for the Flame Alchemist? Burns that were conveniently absent from her comprehensive medical report. 

Rebecca was never one to take Riza’s runarounds at face value. She would ask questions- questions Riza was confident she would be unwilling to answer. 

“No,” she says finally.

Roy raises an eyebrow at her, clearly surprised. 

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready to show anyone else my back yet, sir,” Riza says with a finality that informs Roy she has no intentions of discussing her decision further. “Rebecca is unaware and I’m not ready for her questions. The last thing I’d like is for her to accidentally see it when helping me dress.” 

Riza notices Roy’s ears flush pink at the thought of helping her put on clothes, but she is kind enough to not say anything. 

“I have the car parked outside. This way, Lieutenant.” 

They arrive at her apartment just before dinner. Roy calls the local cafe down the block, ordering dinner for two to be delivered, leaving Riza to rummage through her things. 

Riza opens her meager closet and grabs three sets of her uniform and a few pairs of her most modest pajamas. She hesitates in front of her casual clothes, uncertain if she wants to bring them, before deciding that they would be a more comfortable option than lounging around in her uniform all day. 

The entire situation is still far too casual for her comfort. 

She has the hindsight to pack only her dresses- long, flowy, conservative things in various shades, picked exclusively for their lack of pesky little buttons. The less she needs Roy’s assistance to get dressed, the better for both of their sanity.

She lays her selection out on her bed before grabbing a large canvas bag. The process of packing is slow, she realizes. Her left hand fumbles with the simplest tasks, but she is grateful Roy remains out of sight on her couch while she struggles alone. 

When all of her chosen belongings are finally tucked away in her bag, she slings it over her shoulder and carries it out into the living room. 

“Perfect timing, Hawkeye,” Roy says to her from the kitchen table. “Dinner just got here. I ordered sandwiches- thought it might be easier to eat them with one hand.” 

Her stomach rumbles, exposing the true depths of her hunger. It had been a long exhausting day and food had barely crossed her mind before now. She sits down beside him and eagerly begins to eat. 

“Thanks for dinner,” she says after she has eaten her fill. 

“Of course,” Roy answers as he gives her a warm smile. “How are you feeling? Have the pain pills worn off yet?’ 

Riza shakes her head. “Not yet.” 

“You really frightened me back there, Lieutenant.”

“I had faith in you, sir,” she answers honestly. Not once did she think the men would harm her if Roy had any say in the matter. “You pulled through, as always.” 

Roy doesn’t answer her immediately, choosing to center his full focus on his half-eaten dinner. When he finishes, he looks up at Riza, eyes solemn. “That may have been the first time I’ve been happy to watch a man burn to death.” 

The gravity of his confession is not lost on Riza; she reaches out and eagerly squeezes his hand. “I’m safe now. Because of you. Thank you.” 

He nods and swallows audibly. “You’re worth it.” 

The two sit in silence until Riza clumsily finishes her own dinner. She struggles to use her napkin and Roy innocently wipes the fingers on her good hand clean. They then grab her things and leave without a word. 

They arrive at Roy’s rent house just before nine. They are exhausted from a full day and it is apparent that the only thing consuming their mind is sleep. 

“You can have the bed,” Roy says as he gestures toward his bedroom. “I’ll take the couch.”

“I can’t displace you like that,” Riza immediately argues. 

“Hawkeye-” Roy growls, the smallest hint of frustration lacing his words. “Don’t make me-“

“We can share,” Riza blurts out before Roy can finish. “It’s a king bed. Plenty of space. We are both exhausted, my arm is broken, and I trust you to keep your hands to yourself. Besides, it’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before.” 

With the elephant in the room exposed, Roy sighs, contemplating her suggestion. Yes, it is far from the first time he has had Riza in his bed, but that was back when things were different, before she had pledged to follow him to hell. Back when it didn’t matter if he kept his hands to himself or not. Back before they were covered in blood. 

“You’re right,” he says, weak to his exhaustion. “I sleep terribly on this couch anyway.” 

The two head to the bedroom and Riza begins to rummage through her bag, searching for pajamas. 

“In the morning, I’ll clear out a drawer or two in my dresser for your use,” Roy says with a smile “I would now, but I’m far too tired.” 

“It can wait until tomorrow. I found what I’m looking for,” Riza says with a small smile. She lifts up her long sleeved, cotton pajamas. A few seconds pass before Riza gives Roy a defeated look. “Lieutenant-Colonel?”

“Yes?” Roy asks as he changes into a cotton shirt and lounge pants behind the closet door. 

“I need help getting dressed.” Roy has never seen Riza blush so deep in his life. “Please?”

He nods and walks over to her, unbuttoning the strap to her sling, freeing the fabric draped around her shoulder. “Okay, put your hands above your head. I’m going to pull your shirt up and off. It may get stuck in the elbow of your casted arm, but I will do my best to be gentle.” 

This should be awkward, Riza thinks as Roy helps her out of her shirt with the utmost care, but it isn’t. He tends to her now in a similar fashion as he did when her burns were still blistering and raw. His touch is careful, meticulous and focused on nurturing, healing and helping. 

After a quiet warning, he unclips her bra and pulls her pajama shirt over her head. Not once does his gaze roam to where it shouldn’t. 

“There,” he says once she is fully dressed. “Comfy?” 

Riza nods as she gets into bed. The mattress groans as Roy climbs in on the other side and she feels the soft wool of his blanket as it’s pulled up and over the both of them. 

“It’s going to take me forever to fall asleep,” Riza says with a groan. “This cast is far too bulky for how I normally sleep.” She rolls over onto her back and stares at the ceiling.

“Here’s an extra pillow. Maybe you can prop your arm up to help,” Roy says as he hands her a soft throw pillow. 

Riza happily accepts it and after a few moments of fumbling, begins to think she found a tolerable position. 

“Better?” 

“Yes, thank you,” Riza says, sleep thick on her tongue. Roy’s soft, gentle snore answers her in place of words and Riza allows herself to focus on the ebbs and flows of his breathing, eventually drifting into a deep, restorative sleep herself.


	2. comfortable silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Riza's great dismay, coexisting with Roy is just as easy as she remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful feedback on the first chapter! I was a little anxious to post it at first, so the response was defiantly reassuring. This may be extended from the original 5 chapters to 7/8. This update took so long because in editing, I added parts, deleted others and just generally expanded the story beyond what I originally had as the "complete" piece.

Riza rises first. She’s half asleep and yet to open her eyes when she hears soft breathing in the distance. The sound startles her and her eyes snap open, revealing an unfamiliar white wall, the striped wallpaper of her apartment noticeably absent. Her mind races for a moment as she tries to remember where she is, but within a moment the events of yesterday come crashing into the forefront of her mind. She moves to sit up and is reminded of the rigid cast encasing her right arm. She groans and collapses back into the pillow, pausing a moment to scold herself for being so bold as to suggest she share a bed with her commanding officer. 

It takes her another minute before she is able to look over at Roy. He is still deep asleep, his face free from the worry lines that have made their home on his skin since their return from Ishval. He looks peaceful, angelic even, and Riza finds her internal anger for allowing them to share a bed quickly disappearing. 

She will blame it on her exhaustion, but deep down she knows the truth. He’s comforting, like home, no matter how hard Riza works to extinguish this feeling. 

He must sense her gaze, because a moment later his eyes flutter open and he’s looking straight at her. 

“Good morning, Hawkeye,” he says softly. “Sleep okay? Cast didn’t keep you up, I hope.” 

She nods. “I was so tired I didn’t even remember my arm was broken for a moment there when I woke up.” 

“Good.” Roy rolls over to look at the clock on his nightstand and let’s put a groan. “It’s six am. Why are we up so early?” 

“I’m always up at six,” Riza answers simply. 

“But we both have today off. Grumman’s orders. I’m sore as hell and I can only begin to imagine how you feel.” 

His words bring Riza’s attention to the constant, dull throbbing radiating from her joints. She is certain that her back is bruised from the fall out the window. What a sight that must be, the blue and black meshing with the red ink and pink burns like a mosaic. 

Roy watches the pain flash in Riza’s eyes and smiles at her softly. “Try and go back to sleep, Hawkeye. It’s only going to help your body heal. All of it,” - he pointedly gazed at her broken arm- “needs to heal.” 

Riza knows Roy is right, but as a disciple of the strictest morning routine, she struggles not to justify waking up and beginning her day. 

“Fine,” she says after a moment. She shifts in the bed before finding a comfortable position, her arm once again propped up by the spare pillow. “I’ll try to sleep.” 

Sleep comes easily and the next thing Riza knows it’s nine in the morning. She turns to find the other side of the bed empty and slowly gets up to investigate. 

Roy is sitting in the kitchen, head bent as he focuses on the task currently occupying his attention. 

“Morning,” he says without looking up. 

Riza pulls out a chair and sits down next to him. “What’s that?” 

“My official statement about yesterday. I know I gave one to the medics, but I want to make sure everything is written down while the events are still fresh. I’m trying to avoid any issues should there be complications. We did kill three people. Coffee?” Riza nods and Roy abandons his project for a moment, standing and heading over to the percolator on the stove. He pours her a cup and heads back to his seat. “Two sugars and one small splash of cream.” 

“Thank you,” she says softly as she struggles to take a sip. Holding a mug in her left hand is weird, but not unmanageable. 

The world was not designed for the left handed, Riza thinks with a frown. 

“I must apologize, Lieutenant,” Roy says and the use of her title knocks Riza out of her thoughts. Since arriving at his apartment, he has only addressed her by her last name. It’s familiar enough to fit in with the close quarters they were currently sharing, but distant enough to keep any lingering feels of intimacy at bay. 

“What for, sir?” 

“You’ve been in this position for less than a year and you’re already injured. How many times are you going to suffer because of me?” 

She frowns. “I’m not suffering.” 

“That may be, but you aren’t exactly thriving either.” 

Roy’s tone of voice reveals more than he intends. Riza can see the guilt, clear as day, flushed upon his skin. Despite her insistence, both at the scene and the hospital, Roy is taking her injury far too close to the heart. 

“Sir, please don’t blame yourself. The men attacked me. I’m alive because of you.” 

“You were in the situation to begin with because of me.”

“Sir, please stop your mind from spiraling,” Riza pleads softly. She can already see the wheels turning, inviting him down to a deep, dark echo chamber. “I’m fine. And in case you’ve forgotten, I choose to follow you and I could choose to leave at any time but I never have. So unless I do, please do not blame yourself.” 

Roy doesn’t speak for a long while before nodding. “I’ll take your word Lieutenant. Are you hungry? I can fix up some oatmeal with berries.” 

“Yes, please,” Riza says politely. “I’m surprised you have any food at all.” 

“To be honest, I had Havoc send for some groceries when you and I were still at the hospital and it became apparent I would be taking you home with me.” As soon as the words slip out of his mouth, Roy’s face blushes red. “That sounded worse than I intended.” 

“I won’t hold it against you,” Riza says. 

Roy stands up and begins to move around the kitchen, quietly preparing breakfast. Riza opens the newspaper carefully folded at the end of the table and skims over the day’s headlines, curious to see if any of the previous day’s activities had been reported. After careful examination of the black and whites, it’s apparent that the military has kept their mission a secret. 

“Anything interesting in the headlines?” Roy says as he stirs the oatmeal on the stove. 

“No. Nothing about our mission yesterday.” Riza knows this is what he is really asking about. 

“Figures. They celebrate my successes, but only to a certain extent,” he scoffs. 

“They celebrate you plenty, Hero of Ishval.” The words slip off of Riza’s tongue without thinking. It’s unnecessarily careless of her, knowing how Roy feels about his honorary title. She shares the same sentiment. “Sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.” 

To his credit, Roy decides to shrug it off. “No harm done, Hawkeye.” He places two bowls of oatmeal on the table and turns around to grab the brown sugar and milk. “Would you like me to fix the toppings for you, or do you want to give it a try?” 

“I can do it,” Hawkeye says as she slowly and carefully pours a small amount of milk into her oatmeal. “Thankfully a spoon only requires one hand.” 

“So it does,” Roy agrees. “Do you have anything you need to get accomplished today? It might be good to get a few errands finished, seeing as we have today off.” 

“Nothing comes to mind,” Riza says before pausing. “Actually, I would really like a shower.” 

“Can you shower with the cast?” 

“If it’s wrapped in plastic, yes.” 

“I could run you a bath. That might be a more practical option until you’re more comfortable with your left hand. I’ll still wrap your arm in plastic, of course.” 

Roy is correct. Riza is not particularly fond of baths- she finds them far too impractical- but it will be easier to keep the plaster dry. She may not even have to ask Roy for assistance washing her hair, a detail she had been deeply dreading. 

Although, it wouldn’t be the first time he has had to assist her with bathing. 

They finish breakfast in a comfortable silence and Roy quietly does the dishes. Riza knows he is doing everything in an instant so she has no time to offer her assistance. She can’t truly help with just one arm, but Roy is determined to not give her the opportunity to be rejected. 

“Let me go start the water. I have an oversized tub so it takes a moment to fill.” 

Riza nods and follows Roy into the bedroom where he steps into the en-suite. The sound of running water fills the apartment moments later and Roy returns to the bedroom to find Riza standing in her pajama shirt and underwear, having removed her pants. 

“Can you take off my shirt before you wrap my arm?” Riza asks. 

Roy nods, internally cursing his foolishness for underestimating how often he was going to have to see Riza in various stages of undress over the next few weeks. It shouldn’t matter, he rationalizes to himself. He helped bathe and dress her while she was recovering from her burns. And before she enlisted in the military… Roy blinks quickly, shaking the thoughts out of his head before they had a chance to fully form. 

With as much care and respect as the night before, Roy removes Riza’s shirt. Holding her good arm over her breasts, she holds out her other as Roy carefully wraps it in plastic wrap he had procured from the kitchen moments earlier. 

“There,” he says after a long pause. “That should be sealed tight, but be careful. My soap and shampoo are on the edge of the tub. The blue towel on the wall will be yours as long as you stay here. I’ll be going over some files in the bedroom, so if you need me, just yell out.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Riza says. She heads to the bathroom where she strips out of her underwear and carefully climbs into the tub. 

Riza takes her time, scrubbing her body clean of yesterday’s sweat and grim. Roy’s soap has remained the same for as long as Riza’s known him and she tries to suppress the memories the rosewood brings to the forefront of her mind. 

Once fully clean, Riza drains the tub, stepping out and awkwardly drying herself off with one hand. Clean clothes wait on the bathroom counter and she slips on her underwear and bra. 

She’s grateful when her cotton dress slips easily over her shoulders, the thin straps of the tank top easily maneuvering around her cast. 

She leaves the bathroom and finds Roy sitting in bed, nose buried in a book. 

“Manage okay?” He asks, not looking up. 

“Yes,” Riza answers. “Mind helping me with my cardigan?” 

Roy finally looks up from his book and for a brief moment, his eyes flash bright at Riza’s appearance. It’s gone in an instant, but Riza has always been one for attention to detail. 

“What is it?” She asks, although she is certain of the answer. 

“I just haven’t seen you in a dress like this since… well it’s been a long time.” 

“I wear dresses plenty.”

“We don’t see each other much outside of work much anymore,” Roy says as he gets up to assist Riza with her cardigan. It’s lavender, with a high collar. Roy knows its purpose is to conceal and he internally curses his former master for dooming Riza to forever hide in layers of fabric. 

“There’s no reason too,” Riza says firmly as she allows Roy to navigate her arm through the cardigan’s sleeve. “Button me up?”

Roy nods. 

He’s almost halfway up the row of buttons before his mind processes just how close he is to Riza. She smells like him. Logically, this is obvious, but he finds his breath hitching regardless. He keeps his gaze almost too focused on the task at hand, quickly stepping away once complete. 

“Thank you, sir,” Riza says softly. 

“Anytime,” Roy says softly. “Havoc called when you were in the bath. He’s planning on stopping by soon to see how you are.” 

“Shouldn’t he be at work?” 

“He’s the only one in the office. I can turn a blind eye this time. Besides, he sounded worried sick about you.” 

“I’m perfectly fine.” 

“You know hearing someone is okay and seeing them in person are two very different things.” 

This Riza understands implicitly. She doesn’t speak another word of protest. 

Havoc arrives promptly at noon, lunch in hand. If he suspects Riza is staying with Mustang, he does not let on. 

“Six weeks? That’s a long time for you to be stuck on desk duty, Hawkeye,” he says once Riza has caught him up on her medical history. 

Roy eyes her warily. 

“It’s better than forced medical leave, I suppose.” She puts down the teacup in her hands. “How was headquarters this morning?” 

“Quiet. Although Grace- the receptionist on the fourth floor- got engaged this weekend so there goes that dream.” 

Riza and Roy sit and visit with Havoc for another hour. They don’t talk about yesterday- about how close of a call it really was. Instead, they focus on the trivial and the day to day occurrences of office life in the military. 

“There was an ulterior motive to my visit today, Lieutenant-Colonel,” Havoc says once he’s returned from his post-lunch smoke break. “You received a phone call. Heymann Breda has accepted your invitation to interview him.” 

Breda was stationed down South, but his reputation, along with a stellar recommendation from his former roommate at the academy (Havoc), Roy has developed a real interest in the young officer. 

“Excellent. We will be back in the office tomorrow. I’ll have Hawkeye call and arrange a time. If he calls this afternoon, please tell him to expect her call.” 

Havoc nods. He glances at the time and stands to put on his coat. “I should probably be going. Can’t have the office empty all day. Imagine the backlog of paperwork.” 

“Oh, I’m imagining it,” Riza says with a sly smile. “No offense Havoc, but I don’t know if you’ll make a significant enough dent in the workload by yourself.” 

Havoc leaves, grumbling about Riza’s lack of confidence. His complaints are half-hearted because he knows her words to be true, but he can’t resist the opportunity to tease her. 

The day passes on quickly and with little fanfare. Riza takes to the couch, nursing a book and a cup of tea. Roy hunkers down at his desk, pouring over alchemy notes far too intricate for Riza to begin to understand. The radio plays in the background and a window is open, letting in a soft, gentle breeze. 

At just before five, Riza interrupts Roy’s concentration to ask if he will need help with dinner. 

“Shit!” Roy says, his eyes wide. “I totally forgot about dinner! I had a date scheduled!” 

He gets up and walks over to the phone, instructing the operator on where to transfer his call. 

“Yes, hello,” Roy says to whomever is on the line. “My name is Roy Mustang. I have a reservation for two tonight at seven, but unfortunately I need to cancel.” He pauses for what Riza can only assume is confirmation of his request. “Wonderful, thank you.” He hangs up the phone, but before he can begin to dial again, her voice stops him. 

“Sir, there’s no need to cancel on my behalf. What if the information is valuable? You could always invite Madam’s girl here.” 

Roy flushes pink and says nothing for a beat too long before clearing his throat. “Um, well. If you must know, this was a real date.” 

“Oh.” Riza wants to wince at how small her voice sounds. 

The awkward tension clings to the air, only breaking when Roy tentatively dials another number. Riza turns to look away. 

“Hi Cynthia, it’s Roy.” The briefest of smiles cross his face as he listens to Cynthia’s reply. “I apologize for the late notice,” he continues. “But I am afraid I have to cancel tonight. A dear friend of mine recently broke their arm… yes, their dominant arm… I know how terrible… and I’m afraid I can’t leave them alone in good conscience. Forgive me?” 

Riza just sits there at the table, actively trying to both listen to the entire conversation and to not hear a thing. A dear friend. Roy had called her a dear friend. Even without reading into it, it was fitting. The bond between them was deep before Ishval, but after he had burned her back and spent the subsequent weeks nursing her back to health, their lives were twisted together in separate, yet inseparable bonds. Riza frowned slightly as she admitted defeat at her meager attempt to decipher his words. Romantic interest aside, they were dear friends. 

“You didn’t have to cancel on my behalf. Real date or not,” she says after he hangs up the phone. A small part of her celebrates how he did not reschedule with the mysterious Cynthia. 

“Yes I do,” Roy counters. “I goaded you into this arrangement. I can’t properly help you if I’m not here.” 

Riza doesn’t say anything further. She knows she can’t afford too.


	3. three months' rent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy goes behind Riza's back, but she just can't find it in her to be angry. Heymans Breda arrives for his interview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be 6 chapters, so we are halfway! The next chapter is where it should start to get good, so please enjoy this slight filler.

The next morning, they arrive at Eastern Command promptly ten minutes to eight. 

Roy whines that this is the earliest he’s ever been at headquarters. Riza sees through his childish complaint and tells him that if he continues to protest, she will start dragging him to work a full hour earlier for no other reason than to make a point. 

He knows she’s serious. Roy never complains about the time again. 

Two weeks pass by in the blink of an eye and Riza almost allows herself to slip into a fragile comfort living with Roy. It’s similar- too similar, maybe- to her childhood. He still stays up until the early hours of the morning, pouring over books with formulas and phrases Riza will never understand. She still rises before him and he still drags himself out of bed, eyes heavy with sleep, and eagerly sits down for a cup of coffee she’s already prepared just the way he likes. Her arm prevents her from truly cooking, so he doesn’t allow himself to oversleep. He never overslept as an apprentice either, but her father’s strict disposition and rigid expectations roused him from bed back then. 

“Good morning,” Roy says as he takes the coffee Riza offers with her good hand. “Sleep well?” 

“Could have been better. My skin is starting to itch underneath the cast. It kept me up a little.” 

Roy wastes no time and begins to prepare breakfast. “Stop by the infirmary sometime today to see if there’s anything that will help.” 

“Yes, sir,” Riza says as she sits down to wait for her meal. 

Headquarters is rather empty this particular morning. The sky is a dreary grey and makes Riza want to curl up with a cup of tea and a good book. Maybe some of her comrades decided to do just that. 

Riza would have to be on her deathbed before she calls in sick.

They settle into the office quietly. Roy sits down and begins to complete the paperwork Riza has meticulously organized for him. She stands close by, observing his progress and catching any errors he makes. 

“Good morning!” Havoc says with a wide smile. He’s abnormally cheerful. 

“You’re upbeat this morning,” Roy says, his eyes never leaving the request form in front of him. 

“I had a date last night,” Havoc brags. “And I think it went rather well, if I do say so myself.” 

“Let me know when she dumps you so I can take a shot,” Roy jokes. Havoc hopes it’s a hollow treat, but with Mustang he can never be too sure. 

Havoc frowns. “For that, I won’t even tell you her name.” 

“I’m sure he’ll figure it out somehow,” Riza says as she takes a pile of completed paperwork back to her desk to sort. 

“Oh come on, Hawkeye! Why are you taking his side?” 

“He pays me,” Riza deadpans.

“Whatever,” Havoc says as he slouches in his seat. “Although, I hate to admit, you taking a break with dating has helped my odds, chief.” 

“I’m not taking a break. I’m being a good boss and helping my subordinate heal,” Roy says as he motions towards Riza. “Not the best time to be bringing girls home.” This sentence comes out quieter, as though Roy is unsure he should be speaking it at all. 

“Sir, this isn’t a work conversation. Go back to your paperwork,” Riza says through clenched teeth. 

“Oh come on, Hawkeye. Lighten up. You are cock-blocking the boss for another month. The least you can do is let him complain about it,” Havoc says laughing. 

“Jean Havoc, you watch your mouth right now. Left arm or not, I have a mean uppercut. And may I remind you he is the one who insisted I stay with him until my cast is removed?” 

“Fine, fine,” Havoc says. He’s still amused. “But tell me, Hawkeye, when was the last time you went on a date?” 

“That’s none of your business. Get back to work.” 

“That’s a good way of saying forever.” 

“If I admit it’s been a while will you shut up already?” 

“See that wasn’t hard.” Havoc shrugs and leans back in his chair, feet up on the desk. “On a serious note, I have a friend, a non-military friend who I think you’d like. If you want, I could set you two up a date. It couldn’t hurt, right?” 

Roy visibly sits up in his chair, poorly feigning his growing interest in his subordinates' conversation. 

“I’m okay, thank you. Besides, this isn’t the best condition to be dating in,” Riza motions to her cast. 

“Alright. If you change your mind let me know. He works for McArther and Fields.” 

This genuinely piques Riza’s interest. McArther and Fields is the largest weapons manufacturer in Amestris. No one makes a better sniper rifle than them, never mind a shotgun. 

“I will… I will keep that in mind.” Her voice is no longer laced with anger. 

The truth is, if Riza were dating, Havoc’s friend would realistically be an ideal match. Havoc knew her well and she trusts him to respect her opinions. Havoc would only suggest someone whom he thought Riza would genuinely like. 

If only Riza was currently dating. 

She doesn’t allow herself to dwell on why she isn’t. The answer is right in front of her face, but locked away tight. 

“Alright, alright,” Roy’s voice cuts through. “Let’s get back to work.” 

/-/-/

It’s the third Saturday of Riza’s recovery when they head back to her flat so she can grab a few things. 

“That should be everything,” Riza says as she places her small bag on the table. “I’m going to go check the mail. We can leave when I get back.” 

Roy nods from his seat at the table. “Sounds good.”

Riza exits her apartment and heads downstairs to the mailbox. It’s full to the brim with letters, but nothing of true importance. She turns to head back to her apartment when she is greeted by a friendly voice. 

“Hi, Mrs. Garfunkel,” Riza says, giving her landlord a polite smile. 

“Good afternoon, Riza, how is your arm healing up?”

“Slower than I’d like.” It was the truth. 

“That’s a shame. At least the military is really taking care of you. Three months’ pay in advance for breaking your arm? My, does Fuhrer King Bradley care about his men.” 

“Three months’ pay?” Riza asks, genuinely confused. 

“Yes, your boss- the handsome, rugged dark haired fellow- dropped off your next three months' rent a while ago. Said you received a large compensation from the military for your injury.” Mrs. Garfunkel smiles a heartwarming smile. “Wonderful fella.” 

As the pieces begin to click together in her mind, Riza sees red. She has to fight to keep her face neutral, wishing her landlord goodbye before she storms up the stairs and back into her studio apartment. 

Roy is still sitting at the kitchen table, nose deep in his research notes. He smiles at her, unaware of the fury raging in her mind. 

“When did you give my landlord three months’ rent?” She spits with enough anger to scare anyone other than Roy. 

“The day you were injured,” he says so casually he could be talking about the weather. “She stopped by when you were packing. I didn’t have enough cash so I wrote her a check.”

“Excuse me!” She yells. “Why are you paying my rent? I make my own money, you know. I have a job.”

Roy sighs. He knows Riza is livid at his actions and puts his notebook down on the table, turning his full attention to his fuming subordinate standing in the doorway. 

“You do know that as a state alchemist, I am entitled to several billion cenz a year? And that is on top of my officer’s salary.” 

Riza nodded. She is aware that behind Roy’s simplistic lifestyle, he is ridiculously wealthy. Not that it changes her mind. “Several billion cenz for research Lieutenant-Colonel. Research, not rent.” 

“Many state alchemists use their funds to support their lifestyles as well.” 

“That’s bullshit, Sir.” 

“Is it? If you want to get technical, you are the living guardian of my alchemical secrets.”

He’s played his trump card. Riza stands there, speechless, uncertain on if she wants to shoot or strangle him. A bullet to the kneecap might teach him. 

“Sir-”

“Look, Riza, I’m sorry about paying your rent behind your back but I am not sorry I did it. I’ll never fully repay you for what you’ve done for me and I’ll never fully repent for what I’ve done to you. She happened to stop by as I was just mulling around your place, beating myself up about yet another injury you’ve suffered because of me. It was the least I could do.” 

Riza doesn’t know if it’s Roy’s brutal honesty, the broken edge in his voice or the use of her first name, but all her anger instantly vanishes. 

“Sir, how are we ever going to move forward if we can’t let go of what happened?” 

“I’ll never let go of Ishval. And if it wasn’t for what happened in Ishval you would have been long retired and your arm would be fine.” 

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” She finally moves from the doorway and joins him at the table. She sits directly across from him. 

“I know I should just… get over it, but it’s difficult. Sometimes I think burning your back hurt me more than it hurt you. Pathetic, aren’t I?” He doesn’t allow Riza the chance to reply. “So yes, when the opportunity arises for me to do something small for you, I will. You don’t exactly make it easy for me. I paid your rent because I wanted to. Not because I didn’t think you could do it on your own.” 

“Three months’ rent isn’t something small, Roy.” 

“I disfigured you, Riza. Everything is small in comparison. You have no idea how grateful I am that this time it was only a broken arm.” 

Riza looks down at her good hand, lips pursed with tension. She doesn’t know what to say, but the hurt in Roy’s voice has permeated her mind. She’s lost this fight and she knows it. 

“Please just… just don’t do it again. Okay Lieutenant-Colonel?” 

“Absolutely, Hawkeye.” 

They sit in silence, staring at their tea until both cups turn cold. 

/-/-/ 

The following Monday, Hawkeye brings Roy his mid-morning tea, paperwork and a warning. 

“You might want to look like you’re working, Sir. Your interview with Heymans Breda is in twenty minutes.” 

Roy sighs deep and dramatically. “I guess that’s best.” He leans his head against the palm of his hand and begins to review a budget request. 

Heymans Breda arrives ten minutes early, dressed in a pinstripe suit that’s not properly fastened all the way. He’s polite enough, Riza decides as she shows him to Roy’s office. The door closes with a click and she leaves to foil Havoc’s plan to spy on his best friend’s interview. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Sergeant Breda,” Roy extends a hand. His handshake is firm, confident even. It satisfies Roy. 

“Likewise, Lieutenant-Colonel,” Breda says as he takes the indicated seat. 

“So tell me more about yourself.” 

Both parties quickly agree that the interview is going well. Breda seems just the type of man Roy is looking for. They chat for a while longer. 

“Tell me, Breda, do you have any hesitation working under an officer only two years your senior?” 

“Not at all,” Breda says firmly. “Besides, it’s refreshing, not having every high-ranking officer be one fall away from retirement.” 

“I have the same mindset. I’m trying to build a team filled with young, eager minds. It’s time for a new generation to start forging Amestris’s future. Lieutenants Hawkeye and Havoc fit this goal.”

“You’ve known Lieutenant Hawkeye for a long time, I see,” Breda says casually. 

“She’s been my adjutant for nine months, but yes we did serve in Ishval together.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Roy hopes Breda did not detect the thin layer of surprise this statement presented. 

“Huh?” 

“You’ve clearly known each other for years. Well, not clearly. Clearly to me.” 

“Care to explain why you think such nonsense?” 

By now, Roy is truly curious. No one outside of Hughes and Rebecca Catalina knows of Riza and Roy’s complicated past. Even then, Roy is unsure if Riza has ever told Catalina just how complicated their history is. 

Hughes found out against Roy’s will, putting together that the famed Hawk’s Eye was indeed the infamous daughter of Roy’s dead teacher one night after they had a little too much Moonshine and Roy could no longer control his tells. 

“Most commanding officers take a while to warm up to their adjutants and trust them fully. Lieutenant Hawkeye is running this office like she’s in charge. Either you have an implicit trust in her, or you're even lazier and more foolish than you say. But I don’t think it’s either of those reasons. After all, you did have the sense to interview me so you’re not an idiot.” Breda smirks. “Sniper units keep to themselves. I can’t imagine a situation where you and the Lieutenant would have openly crossed paths in Ishval. Not without purposely seeking out one another. There’s also the matter that you specifically requested the Lieutenant for this position. No other interviews. She was your first and only choice. Havoc told me. And don’t try and pull the womanizer card and say you hired her for her looks. If that was the case, you would have hired someone who agreed to wear the dress skirt.” 

“At least I know you’re as smart as Havoc says,” Mustang says with a sigh, deciding the best plan of action is to neither confirm nor deny. “Please keep this bit of information between us. Both the Lieutenant and myself are private people.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Breda says resolutely. “If I opened my mouth every time I figured something out, no one would act authentic around me anymore and I would start losing information. But you understand that sir. You're all for putting up a front.”

“So then why did you tell me this? Isn’t that exactly what you just said you like to avoid?” 

A smile crosses Breda’s face. “Because frankly, I hate the climate in the South. I’d like this position and I figured it would be the best way to impress you.” 

Roy adds him to the team right there on the spot.


End file.
